


our hearts are the worst kind of weapons

by naboojakku



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Breeding Kink, COMPLETE!, Cock Warming, Creampie, Creepy Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Eye Contact, Heroes & Heroines, Jump City (DCU), Love Bites, Minor Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Modern Era, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, No Condoms, No Pregnancy, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Ride em cowgirl, Robin is 26, Roleplay, Rough Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Starfire is 17, Strangers to Lovers, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism, age gap, club setting, dubcon, kind of feels like a threesome but it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboojakku/pseuds/naboojakku
Summary: Robin takes advantage of a beautiful stranger while someone unseen watches from the shadows.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Robin/Starfire
Kudos: 34





	our hearts are the worst kind of weapons

**Author's Note:**

> **back on my robstar bullshit**

He’s sitting at the bar when she walks in. Short skirt, midriff-baring top, legs for days, and stunning auburn hair down to a miniscule waist. 

As she slowly walks through the club, hips swaying and thigh-high boots clinging to her legs, men’s heads turn as if by instinct. Tongues wag and more than a few crotches are surreptitiously adjusted. A tall man with a linebacker’s build leans forward in his seat, bracing his elbows on the chair arms and staring at the girl’s ass as if hypnotized. 

And she _is_ a girl. 

Robin watches her over the rim of his glass. She shouldn’t be here. There’s no way the girl is a day over eighteen. She seems completely unaware of all the attention, too, her eyes wide and guileless, swinging from one end of the club to the other. Despite her barely-there outfit, she exudes innocence. Her glossy lips are parted, fingers twitching at her sides as if to expel nervous energy. 

Someone by the front door whistles, and a gathering of young women giggle, but still, the girl doesn’t notice. She weaves in and out of groups, ignoring the heated looks thrown her way. One man reaches out to touch the hem of her skirt, then seems to think better of it when he catches Robin’s gaze. 

The girl reaches the bar and hesitates. This close up, Robin notices the green of her eyes—brilliant, almost searing. Like maybe, if she really focuses, she could peer inside him, divest him of all his secrets. He finishes his glass of whiskey and sets it on the bar. The subtle motion catches the girl’s attention, and she glances at him with something like relief. 

“Can I sit here?” Her finger brushes the soft velvet of the neighboring stool. 

Robin nods, and she settles herself. The bartender is there immediately. He props his chin in his hands and watches raptly while she debates the chalkboard menu. 

“Are you sure you’re old enough to drink?”

She frowns and turns to him. “Very sure.”

“Hm.” He drops his gaze to her legs, which are completely bare. The hem of her skirt is pulled nearly up to her hips. His cock twitches. “You look young.”

She shrugs—a fluid motion. “That’s what they all say.”

For some reason, this nettles him. “All?”

She points one slim, dainty finger at the menu behind the bartender’s head. “Apple martini, please.” 

The man shoots Robin a brief look before nodding and moving away. Ice rattles. 

Impatient, Robin taps a finger against the counter. “ _All?_ ” 

“Men,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

He grinds his teeth, furious at the thought of someone else—anyone else—touching or speaking to this girl. _His_ girl. The truth of this statement rings through his head. _Yes,_ he thinks decisively. _Mine._ The second she walked through that door, he claimed her with little more than a twitch of his ring finger. Doesn't matter if he's the only one who knows. She belongs to him now. 

The bartender returns with her martini. She reaches for it, a grateful smile on her lips, but Robin intercepts the glass. He brings the rim to his mouth and sips. Far too sweet, but his bland expression doesn’t change. 

“Excuse me!” she hisses, furious. Her eyes glow faintly, like she’s lit from within by a wickedly simmering fire. “That is mine.” 

“You haven’t paid for it.” Robin raises an eyebrow at the bartender, who lifts his hands and backs away as if to say, _Hey, I have nothing to do with this._

“Neither have you.” 

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Tell me your age and I might consider handing it over.”

She scoffs, her eyes flicking skyward. “I do not owe you any explanation, sir.”

 _Sir._ The title drags like fingernails down his back, burrowing deep, lighting his nerve endings on fire. _Sir_. He would very much like to show that pretty little mouth how much he appreciates the sarcastic name. 

“No martini for you then.” He sips and briefly closes his eyes. “Mm. Apple.”

Her jaw grinds, and she crosses her arms stubbornly. When she swivels on the stool, he can almost make out the shadowed bits between those slim legs. Something tells him she’s not wearing any undergarments. His cock strains at the seat of his pants, and he finds it difficult to ignore the building pressure in his groin. He’s going to need release soon.

And she’s going to give it to him. 

Robin lifts the martini in a mocking salute. “It’s too bad.”

She bites her lip but decides to play along. “What is?”

“Your age. I would love to get to know you, but if you’re underage….” He shrugs. “That’s just not going to work.” 

“Well,” she blusters, obviously taken aback by his directness, “how old are _you?_ ” 

“Twenty-six,” he says without missing a beat. No reason to lie. 

She eyes him for a long moment. He’s wearing a tailored suit tonight. All black, of course—shirt, tie, loafers. His hair is slicked back. No spikes. He’s even left his mask behind. The only spot of color on him are the slim green cufflinks on the ends of his sleeves. They’re in the shape of lightning bolts. 

“I’m eighteen,” she says finally, not meeting his eyes, and he knows at once that it’s a lie. Not much of one—if he had to hazard a guess, he’d go with seventeen—but still a lie. 

Robin sighs and swirls the martini. “That’s a shame.”

“Why is that?” She pouts, and he nearly groans at the plush set of those beautiful lips. He allows himself a brief moment to imagine what they’d look like wrapped around his cock. “I’m of age.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he laughs, setting the half-empty martini on the bar. “If you say so.”

Her eyes flicker with outrage, and she’s on her feet in a blink. With a quick swipe, she snatches the stem of the glass and dumps the contents in her mouth. His eyes glue themselves to the slim curve of her throat, and he watches it work as she swallows down the alcohol. He feels more than sees the bartender freeze in place. 

With a triumphant smile, the girl sets the glass down with a soft clink and gently touches the back of his hand where it rests on the bar. “Thank you for the drink.”

She turns to leave, but Robin is on his feet, crowding her against the edge of the bar. Her big eyes blink up at him, confused. 

“You think I’ll let you go that easily?”

She laughs, and his balls draw tight at the sound. “You paid for my drink voluntarily, no? I do not owe you anything.” 

“I haven’t paid,” he reminds her, putting a hand on her waist. “Yet.”

Her expression darkens. “Move aside.”

He tilts his head and pouts mockingly. “Why would I do that? I like where you are just fine.”

She huffs, obviously annoyed. “You are very full of yourself, you know that?”

His lips curve in a hungry grin. “What’s your name?” Then, with a wink, “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” 

“Call me Star,” she mumbles, glancing over his shoulder. He’s pretty sure the room’s attention is on them, which is fine—for now. He needs to lock her down before some other man gets it into his head to try his luck.

“We’re using fake names, then, are we?” Robin nods and gently lifts her hand to his lips. “Call me Robin.”

“Like the bird,” she says, smiling dreamily as if this delights her. 

“Like the bird,” he agrees, and kisses the back of her hand. He lets his lips linger for an extra few seconds. 

A rosy pink blush washes across her cheeks, and Robin’s heart misses a beat. He’s feeling very warm suddenly, and his cock is now straining for the slick, heated core inches away, separated only by the fine silk of his pants. So close. 

“Star,” he says, staring into eyes that block out the room. If he’s not careful, he very well might fall into them. 

“Yes?” She’s breathless and blinking rapidly, clearly fighting against the same pull. 

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” His gaze lowers to her lips, and when she sucks in a quiet breath, he drops all pretense and adds, “I need to touch you.”

She shudders and nods. Robin tucks her hand into the crease of his elbow, though not before laying a possessive kiss on her forehead for the room to see. Marking his territory. Should anyone attempt to take her away from him after this point, he’ll have more than enough reason to rip them apart. 

He leads Star to a booth in the corner, out of sight of the rest of the club. It’s quiet and secluded—perfect for what he has in mind. He settles himself on one end, his back to the room, and Star slides in next to him with some light prompting. A waiter immediately places two empty glasses and a carafe of ice water on the table, bows, and retreats, leaving them in peace. 

No one will bother them from now on, unless they want Robin to pay them an unwelcome visit in the dead of night. Certain stories have a way of getting out of control, expanding to hyperbole and half-truths. But this suits him—his stories often become legends, and no one dares mess with a legend. 

They silently examine each other in the mirror on the wall behind the booth. Star’s eyes are still an unearthly green, and he knows this means she’s excited. Her skin is faintly flushed, and her body is tilted unconsciously towards him. He drapes an arm along the back of the booth, fingers grazing her bare shoulder. His reflection smirks when she shivers again. 

“Well?”

Star frowns and glances at his profile. “Well, what?”

He pats the seat of his pants, raising an expectant eyebrow. “I didn’t drag you back here to talk.”

Sparks fly from her eyes. She tries to slap him across the face, but he catches her wrist and yanks her forward so their lips are only a hair's-breadth apart. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warns, keeping his voice low. 

“I am not going to suck your _c-cock_ ,” she splutters. “Who do you think—”

He pulls her into his lap, and although she spits and hisses like a wild cat, she doesn’t try to escape. Her thighs fall open, and she straddles his lap, knees digging into the plush upholstery. He grabs her by the waist, his hands meeting around her middle. She’s so tiny, so soft and warm and... _flawless._ Unearthly. Being so close to her like this is intoxicating. He’s finding it difficult to think straight.

“Is this what you do?” she asks liltingly, gazing at him through her lashes. “Find strange young women to harass and manhandle until you get what you want?” 

“And what if it is?” Robin groans through his teeth as she moves her hips, adjusting her position in his lap. His cock slots neatly between the juncture of her thighs.

“Well,” she says thoughtfully, clasping both sides of his neck. “I would tell you to beware. One day you might meet your match.”

She kisses him then. Her mouth is soft and insistent, lips pushing against his like she means to devour him right then and there, witnesses be damned. Her minuscule skirt bunches up around her hips, and Robin’s hands glide up her smooth thighs. He moans into the kiss, desperate for a taste of her. 

“Beware,” she whispers, and kisses him again. She molds her body to his, her breasts pillowed between them. Robin hikes up her skirt until her bare pussy is exposed to him. Now he’s the one who shudders. 

Star leans back, flicking her long hair over one shoulder. Her eyes glimmer and flash with heat. When she dips low to nibble on his jaw, he groans again at the friction between his legs. It grows unbearable, and with clumsy hands, he unzips his slacks and pulls out his engorged cock. He pumps twice with his hand, and he’s relieved it’s already slick and dripping pre-cum.

His girl sighs at the sight of his cock, but he’s in no mood for prolonged admiration. “Hands on my shoulders,” he commands.

She hums appreciatively and braces herself as he lifts her by the hips. Her breasts brush his mouth, and he eagerly sucks on one nipple through the thin material of her top. Her body jolts, and she cries out. 

Slowly, so she has ample time to adjust, Robin impales her on his cock, rolling his hips to slip deeper as she sinks down on him. Her head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed, as he pushes his way up to the hilt. Her bottom comes to rest in his lap again, and with a few minute adjustments, she’s skewered. 

“So…good,” she says breathlessly, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

Robin is almost out of his mind with want, and he barely registers her high-pitched moan as he starts to move. His cock bumps her clit, and Star whines and rolls her hips. He hugs her tightly around the waist and sets a fast rhythm that matches the one in his chest. He noses aside her top, seeking a nipple, and draws it into his mouth, sucking and licking at the pebbled skin. 

“Oh, Robin,” she sighs, breasts heaving as she moves on him. 

“That’s right, baby doll,” he says gutturally, baring his teeth. “Bounce on my dick like a good girl.”

“I _am_ a good girl,” she gasps, clamping her thighs around his legs. “S-so good!” Her long hair swings with their rhythm, and he greedily licks along the curve of her neck, hungry for every inch of this girl. 

Robin grunts and leans back in the booth, angling Star in his lap. A long, garbled moan climbs from her throat, and her lips part as she’s jostled up and down. Buried so deep inside her, Robin's able to feel the faint pulses of an impending orgasm, and he immediately begins to thrust harder, pumping his hips as fast as he can. 

Star squeaks, her mouth forming an O as he rams into her again and again. He pulls her down for a rough kiss, licking the roof of her mouth and biting her bottom lip, doing everything he can to spur her closer to an orgasm. He blinks, feeling drugged, and his eyes slid to the mirror on the back of the booth. 

A man stares back at him.

Robin’s breath catches, but Star isn't aware of anything amiss. Delirious with pleasure, she runs her hands through his hair, kissing the corners of his mouth, nuzzling his neck, and pushing her hips down to meet him thrust for thrust. 

Slade Wilson catches his eye, and his reflection smirks. The big man leans back in his own booth, arms flung along the tops of the seats in a casual display of ownership. He’s wearing a suit so dark it's like a black hole—not reflecting light but absorbing it. The right side of his face is cast in shadow, but the left side is alive with mirth. His dark eye follows their frantic movements as Star builds to a climax. 

“ _R-Robin_ ,” she whines, her walls clenching on his cock like a vise. “I’m close!” 

He blinks again and returns to the moment, now all too aware they have an audience. Star is flushed and panting, her eyes rolling in their sockets as she rides him. Incensed by the presence of an interloper, Robin grips her hips and pounds into her with a series of short, brutal thrusts. 

Star wails and lets go. A warm gush of cum cascades down his cock, slicking her thighs and the seat of his slacks. 

“Gonna fill this pussy,” he grunts, his heavy balls smacking wetly against the round globes of her ass. “Make this pussy mine, won't I?”

“ _Yes, Robin, yes!_ ” she sobs, shaking and gasping as her climax fades. 

He locks eyes with Slade just as he crests the peak of his own orgasm, and with a tremendous grunt he cums inside his girlfriend’s gaping pussy. He thrusts twice more, driving her sharply into the air, before falling limp. Star collapses on his chest, breathing heavily through her nose. She rolls her hips one more time, absorbing his seed, smearing her folds with his sticky cream. 

“I remembered this time,” she murmurs, kissing the sweaty hollow of his throat.

“You did,” he agrees breathlessly, swallowing down a mounting sense of guilt. He doesn’t dare look into the mirror. 

“Cock,” she continues, oblivious to his worries. “Not clock.” 

Robin gently caresses her hips. They stay like that for several minutes, just catching their breath. He trails a hungry line of kisses down her neck, biting the thin skin of her throat, knowing there’ll be a bruise later. Anything to keep the other men away. Anything to show that she belongs to someone. To _him._

“We should...do this more often,” he breathes, nosing at her jaw. 

“Once a week is enough,” she tells him, drawing circular patterns on his chest. Stars and whorls and flowers. “I am always sore for days after.”

His lips curve in a satisfied smirk. “That’s right. I need to fuck you good to remind you.”

“Remind me?” Star tilts her head questioningly, but there’s a gleam in her eye that tells him she knows exactly what he’s referring to. 

“That you’re mine,” he growls, nipping at her throat. She squeals and tries to pull away, but she’s still impaled nice and deep on his cock, which is already throbbing for a round two. It’ll have to wait until after they return to Titans Tower—the club's closing soon. 

“Promise?”

Robin grips the back of her neck and kisses her hard on the mouth. Needy. Possessive. Incontrovertible. _You are mine and I am yours._ “Promise.”

When they rise from the booth, Robin chances a glance over his shoulder. Star’s fixing her skirt, smoothing it down over her sticky thighs and combing her fingers through her hair, so she doesn’t notice. He scans the booth and swallows, incredibly relieved—Slade is nowhere to be seen. 

Star reaches for his hand, and he gives it a grateful squeeze. They reenter the main area of the club, exhausted and rumpled. Robin snakes an arm around his girlfriend’s bare waist, glaring menacingly at the men who throw her appreciative glances. 

While they wait for a cab, Star leans her head against his shoulder and smiles sleepily. “Same time next week?”

Robin leans close and drops a tender kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be the one in black.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **follow me on[twitter](https://twitter.com/naboojakku) for more nonsense** 😗💚


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